We'll always be
by florencenightingale
Summary: Episode 6x13 made me so sad I thought I'd rewrite the ending ... and I'm posting it now. please R&R


_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. Really if I did I wouldn't be here but in my huge Loft in the Upper West Side with a small Starbucks shop in my kitchen and a whole Manolo Blahnik store in my wardrobe._

Options?

"Are these my only two options?" she asked in a teary voice, desperately trying to hid her despair. How could she willingly submit herself to such a decision? She wanted to be partners, of course, but she also aspired to (needed, really) something more permanent.

Something that obviously couldn't be achieved just by going back on track (seeing where that had led them to) and being "good people catching bad people" that sometimes "go out and celebrate and have small-talk". She sat there, pondering evidence and coming to the inevitable conclusion: she had to look for her own happiness and right now working with him wasn't going to provide it.

She braced herself for what she was about to do. She let her fingers flutter over the edge of the glass he'd handed her just a few minutes before. "Goodbye Booth." She whispered and stood up, leaving 50 bucks on the counter. "Will you please call him a cab once he has decided to go home? And serve him something that will dissipate his alcohol poisoning, too? I'd suggest strong, black coffee and some Advil, if by any chances you are provided with it."

The bartender nodded and poured a cup of coffee to Booth, who was still staring at Bones in shock. "What do you mean with Goodbye Booth?" he grabbed her arm and turned her towards him: his eyes were blazing anger and deep hurt. "What? You going to reject me too? Again?"  
>"No, Booth." She replied firmly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Man, was he strong! She sighed. "Listen. I'm not having this argument here, with you in this predicament. We'll meet tomorrow."<p>

"Bones –" he started but she cut him off, just like he'd done with her. "Seeley. That's final. I'm going home now and I'll think about your ultimatum. I should be able to stop by tomorrow morning with a honest answer. Good night." She pressed her fingers to her lips and brushed a lock of hair aside his forehead, walking away.

She pushed the wooden door open and stepped outside, in the cold, February night. Her eyes felt like they were stung by millions of needles and tears were leaving burning trails down her cheeks. She wiped them away and raised a hand to stop the upcoming cab. "Be strong. Be rational. You know that it's for the best. Maybe if you severe your partnership once again you won't hurt anymore. Maybe you won't be alone anymore." She repeated it in her head like a mantra during the whole drive, up the stairs into her apartment.

She dropped her keys on a shelve, stepped out her heels and hanged her coat. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and sipped it, effectively shutting off every unwanted thought about her conversation with her former-partner-to-be. She'd already made up her mind: this time, the break would help her processing her feelings to suppress them. Booth had already decided it for both of them, she just had to adapt.

But now she had work to do. She went through her email, noting down her requested presence in Guatemala that Easter and replying to a colleague working on a tough case for the Central Identification Laboratory in Hickam, Hawaii, who needed her opinion on the ex-rays of a possible MIA. Then she stripped down to her pjs and cuddled on her bed with the latest number of the American Journal of Physical Anthropology, skipping right to the article she wanted, in which Hans Petersen gave a re-evaluation of stature estimation from skeletal length in the grave.

She went halfway through it before her exhaustion caught up with her: she switched her lamp off and pulled the covers tightly around herself, hoping for a dreamless night.

"Yeah, right Bren." A woman surprisingly similar to Angela replied from her sofa. Her room was softly illuminated and she was sitting Indian style on her bed. She brushed her hands over her eyes, puzzled. "Am I dreaming?" she asked.  
>"Of course you are, sweetie … but let's pretend that I'm really Angela and that you called me right after you came back home. Like you should have, by the way. Ok?"<p>

"So, basically you're just a fragment of my unconscious that is processing events without my rational approval, right?"  
>Angela snorted. "If it sounds better to you … you can think of me like that, as long as you listen."<br>"I don't understand how this could be helpful … I'd just like to- you know, I don't even know why I'm talking to you! You don't exist!" she lied down and closed her eyes.

"You. Are. Just. Plain. Stupid."  
>Oh, no. She could get over almost anything, but insulting her intelligence was always a bad move. "I beg to differ, Angela." She icily replied. "I'm excellently educated, my IQ is extremely high and-"<br>"And that's not what I'm saying." Her friend snapped. "I don't get what game you're playing anymore! You should be happy that they're through … sure, since Hannah was your friend maybe dancing around a fire while shouting you joy at the world isn't such a good idea, but …"

"I don't care about her!" she replied, stiffly. "I mean, of course I'm sorry for her, but what I'm concerned the most is Booth's behavior. I've never, ever seen him this distraught before … and he's gone through a number of tough situations …"  
>"So why are you here? Why aren't you with him, helping him pulling through?"<br>"Because you've seen him!" Bones cried out, her breathing labored. "He doesn't want me there, not the way I'd like to, at least. I can't bear standing this close to him and watching him cry over another woman. And drink, nonetheless!" her head dropped. "I know he despises alcohol as a way of dealing with bad events … he was so mean to me." She whispered.

"So what? You're angry at him because he wasn't his usual gentlemen-like-self? Let him grieve his own way!"  
>Bones closed her eyes and sighed. This was a dream, after all: she might as well be honest with herself and her best friend. "Angela, I love him. He asked me to chose between being just partners and stop working together. I figured …"<br>Angela came closer and gently caressed her hair. "I know sweetheart … you don't want to hurt anymore … this isn't the way, though."  
>"What am I supposed to do? I choose to give him time, and that's not right. I talk to him and it isn't ok either." She sighed in frustration. "This isn't logical!"<p>

"Bren … I know this isn't what you're used to. This is new territory for both of you … finally being able to be together after all this time … if I were you I'd think of Hannah like … do you remember my first pregnancy scare?" She placed a protective hand over her swollen belly as Bones nodded. "Great. That forced me to think out of the box, to reevaluate. It helped me and Hodgins big time to find a way back to each other." She turned towards the door. "Have faith in you. You'll do the right thing, it's easier than you might think."

_Forego the brain and go with your lion heart._

Brennan awoke with a start. Her clock showed 0427: definitely too early to get to the Jeffersonian even for her workaholic-self. She rubbed her eyes and yawned deeply, trying to process what she'd just dreamed: her Angela-unconscious had a valid point. She had to decide, and quickly: it wasn't so hard, wasn't it? She loved him, checked. She wanted him and herself to be happy together, checked. She was ready to do everything for him, checked. He needed time, and she was going to provide him with it. The question was: did he need time _and_ space?

…

"Booth?" Brennan peeked from his office door, taking in his disheveled appearance: he sure seemed not to have rested a lot the previous night and the signs of a strong hangover were clearly showing on his face. He was anyway typing furiously on his keyboard, probably filing a report for their last case and he didn't even look up at her when she entered and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

"Listen … I've come to a conclusion and I'd like to discuss it with you … possibly whilst making eye-contact and over a cup of coffee, if you don't mind." She intently stared at him, hoping in a reaction if any kind.  
>"Well," He muttered, so low that she had to lean closer to hear properly, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "You know where the coffee machine is. Help yourself."<p>

"Look at me Booth." She stated firmly, not willing to be treated like that again. "I know that you're hurting: that something that I saw in you yesterday night was most definitely anguish." She paused, trying to collect her ideas and get to the point. "I saw anguish … and disgust. At Hannah, of course, at yourself maybe but most of all at me. And it was heartcrushing." As expected he looked at her, probably remembering a conversation of a long time before _"Heart cannot break, Booth. At the very least it can crush."_

"I don't want you to look at me that way again so here I am. I'm gonna propose you a deal: are you willing to listen to it?"  
>He simply nodded his approval.<br>Brennan mimicked his gesture and went on. "I want us to keep being partners but on one condition: that this doesn't completely shut off the possibility of being something more in the future. Even a distant one. I've learnt to be quite patient these past few months." She sighed. "What do you say?"

Booth studied her for a while, his expression blank, not that Brennan with her incapacity in discerning feelings would have noticed anything different. Eventually he spoke, and when he did, his voice was clear, though a little bit fatigued. "I don't know Temperance. I mean, I don't think I've really stopped loving you someway … but I can't really promise you anything now. It's too early to just even think about that, but knowing you how I do … I couldn't expect anything else. No." He raised a hand to stop her from interrupting him. "It's not a critic: it's simply who you are and deep down I like it. You go straight to the point, don't mess around with words, don't give me unreasonable excuses. You speak logic and it's a language I've learnt to appreciate. Easy, direct, unquestionable."

"I find myself at loss as to where this conversation is leading …" she said tentatively, tilting her head to the side and furrowing her brows.  
>"What I am trying to say is that I can't stop being your partner, I need you too much to do that." He sighed. "And I think that someday, somehow we could get a way back to each other again. But not now."<br>"So we're partners?" she asked, hope and fear equally present in her voice.  
>"Yeah, Bones. We are and we'll always be, whatever may happen." He finished and smiled at her.<p> 


End file.
